A Journey
For my faithful hiking companion
My child is sick,
Brow beaded with sweat,
Grey eyes lifeless,
Frail little body writhing in pain,
Burning up.
Tears falling from my cheek onto hers
From torrid delirium will not wake her.
Cool palm of my hand on her forehead
Will not bring relief.
Doctors have given up finding cause or cure.
I’m resolved,
To great formidable mountains I’ll take her,
Ask the eons old rocks for aid.
Dead weight of limp body
Hoisted onto my shoulders,
I bravely face the trail before me
And the trials ahead.
Sister Alder, lend me a hand,
Fallen branch will become my comrade,
The lone support I hold onto
On this arduous and treacherous accent.
Breathe in, breathe out,
Step after step,
Infinite number of times.
Time is lost and irrelevant here,
Within this cathedral of ancient pines.
Sunlight shines through
In guiding beams of hope
As meditation on pebbles underfoot
Is transformed into determination
To reach the ultimate goal.
Annoyed, the Gray Colossus shrugs
As I cling to his shoulder,
Dizzied by the heights,
My life dangling over a cliff.
Hold on tight, dearest,
We are close,
All I need is that last bit of strength
To make my way through the shroud of snow
That covers his back,
To the bald rocky top,
Where the air is thin.
There I take down my burden,
Place her ever so gently across my knees.
I ask the high winds for a soothing song,
A lullaby to calm her burning head.
I rub her face with virgin snow
To wash the worries away.
I give her a taste of the life giving water
From a mountain stream.
And I watch as she slowly comes awake.
That unmistakable spark back in her eyes,
That wide smile...
Rejuvenated,
She is ready and eager to play.
My own fatigue forgotten,
Together, like mountain lions,
Their muscles rippling with every powerful move,
We lope through snow banks
Down the hills
In bounds and leaps unstoppable.
Higher and higher,
We reach for tips of the trees,
There, like proud bald eagles
We spread our arms,
Utter a glorious screech,
Plunge and take wing,
Soaring... finally at peace...
©Olga Gavrilovskiy 2014
The child I speak of in the story is my 'inner child', my spirit. When I'm sick and broken I go to nature, to the mountains for healing and rejuvenation. My soul takes on a spiritual journey as the soles of my feet tread the hiking trails.
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